"And I like Bramber, poor chap," said Plant. "And now I'll go and shake hands with the marquis, who wanted to kill me last time I was here."
"I wish I'd seen that," said Williams, simply. "I like seeing fights!"
They spent a happy evening together and talked of Bob. Austin was great upon Bob. And so was Gordon. Austin told them all about the dogs. Goby spoke about the spavined pony he had bought. Gordon told them how Bob had borrowed a hundred pounds of him to be put into something.
"I owe him fifty thousand pounds, at least," said Gordon. "The boy is a financier. I wish I had a boy like Bob."
And just then Carew walked into the room. He looked ill, but was as handsome as paint. Williams jumped to his feet.
"Oh, Jimmy, I heard you were delirious," he said, anxiously.
"I was," said Jimmy, "very delirious, extraordinarily so. I'm not sure that I'm not delirious now."
He looked around the room anxiously, and drew Williams into a corner.
"Do you know anything about delirium?" he asked, anxiously.
"A lot about delirium tremens," said Williams. "Most of the artists I've been with in Africa had it. They said it was malaria. But have you been drinking?"